


it's a kind of intimacy

by melodraaama



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Not Beta Read, Season/Series 01, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24662164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodraaama/pseuds/melodraaama
Summary: It starts with a hat, and then a shirt, and then Abed understands what it's all about.( prompt : wearing partner's clothes )
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 13
Kudos: 206





	it's a kind of intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> notice: pierce calls britta a lesbian in his pierce way in this fic

. 1 .

"Abed," Troy says, knocking his knee into Abed's under the cafeteria table. He would just tap him, but Abed looked really engrossed in editing his video, fingers flying dangerously over the keyboard like he was writing an essay. Plus, he didn't want to potentially harm his own lunch by reaching out in front of him.

Abed merely knocks his knee back, face impassive and eyes still trained on the screen. "What's up?"

"Listen, you remember that project Chang assigned us?" Troy asks. He knocks his foot against Abed's this time. He knows how out of hand it can get — especially when it devolves into a game of shoe stepping — so the movement is light. 

Abed replies in turn, sneakers hitting sneakers. He pauses his typing to look up across the table at Troy. "The one about the snakes or washing his car?"

Troy shakes his head. "Neither. The one about the five phrases."

Abed nods. Clearly, the memory of a murderous Jeff, a frustrated Pierce, and their mountain of draft papers is also fresh in his mind.

"You know," he says, hitting his shoe again, but leaving it there, "I think we should use hats, too."

Abed looks up to stare at him for a moment, before nodding again. He looks back at his computer, typing once more. "We can use some of my hats. I have some in my dorm."

"Sweet!" Troy cheers. He leans forward. "I bet we'll look really authentic."

Abed offers him a resolute nod.

. 2 .

"Abed," Troy croaks.

He's plastered to the sofa, covered with popcorn and root beer that it reminds him of a summer at his aunt's. He has to loll his head to the side to look at the guy, and even then, it's a struggle. At the sound, Abed slowly blinks awake. Unlike Troy, he still looks pristine. His hair is ruffled from sleep, but he doesn't look just as bad as Troy feels. Abed was asleep on the opposite end of his couch, but it provided little space for either of them that when Troy sat up to stretch, he grimaced at just how cramped his body felt.

"What time is it?" Abed asks, small and half-asleep.

Troy rose to his feet. Popcorn fell to the floor as they escaped the little folds of his shirt and jeans. He brushed himself down for any more kernels stuck to him, but it was no use — his shirt was stained to all hell with grease and hints of root beer. Movie marathons change people.

He fishes his phone from his back pocket. It blinks accusingly at him: 8:55am.

"I don't have time to go home and change," Troy says in lieu of an answer. "Can I just borrow a shirt?"

He doesn't even wait. He shuffles past the coffee table to stumble to Abed's closet, the familiarity of the action guiding him as he closes his eyes against the sun. While there, he takes the moment to stretch even more in front of the closet, backwards and forwards. He throws the closet open, and grabs the first shirt there. He doesn't mess up the other clothes, though — he's not a monster.

He pulls his own shirt over his head quickly. He would feel conscious about showing off his body, especially since he feels like crap, but growing up as an athlete gets rid of the shame of changing in front of others. He pulls Abed's shirt on, and the smell of his detergent catches on his nose when he pulls it over. It's a bit small on him, pulling a little tight on the torso, but it's an appropriate size.

He turns to find Abed watching him, peering through squinting eyes and a grimace. "Come on, buddy, we got Spanish."

Abed only groans and hides his face in the crook of his elbow. "No, gracias."

. 3 .

"Abed," Troy calls out, and Abed stops walking to glance behind him. Troy jogs over to him, passing by another religiously neutral holiday zone with the Dean's face on it.

"Hey, Troy," he says with a small smile. "I'm heading to my dorm before Jeff's fight."

"Perfect, I wanted to go with you," Troy replies. They both fall into step as they walk. It's easy like this, finding a rhythm with his best friend that is no doubt based on the tempo of the Imperial March. But, like, a faster version. It makes sense to both of them, okay? They walk quickly past all the generic winter decorations on the quad, stepping past fake snow in 15°C weather.

The dormitory, in a show of rebellion towards the Dean, filled the lobby with any and all religious decorations for a winter holiday that they could find. Also some bongs — but they had a photo of Jesus on it, so technically it worked for the theme. Shirley would've loved the idea of the whole thing, but maybe not so much the execution. She has her own display, anyway.

They climb the stairs to the second floor. The dormitory is busy around this time of year — many people leaving for vacation, many people just leaving class early. He and Abed are walking side by side again in the full hallway. In his distraction, he nearly bumps into someone squeezing past to go the opposite way. He saves himself by jerking to the side, knocking into Abed, their WWBJD bracelets clacking against each other. The guy says a quick "Sorry!" as he keeps running, his sleeveless, grey hoodie looking really familiar…

Abed unlocks his room and immediately goes to his desk to snatch up his digital camcorder, while Troy hops to the couch.

"Can I borrow another shirt?" Troy asks, sitting down. He picks at Shirley's bracelet, playing with the B piece. "If we're fighting anyone today, I wanted to look like Rocky."

Abed turns around, and the camera is pointed at him, light turned red. "Rocky doesn't wear a shirt when fighting."

Troy glances down at his long-sleeved shirt, the nice, striped one he got from his mom. It was warm the last few days, so he decided to layer down. That meant that any blood will be permanent.

"However," Abed says, his voice hiding a smile, "Rocky does wear this one hoodie before a fight."

Troy looks up. "Aw, yeah! That would look sick!" Instead of rushing to his closet, Troy rushes to a box hidden under Abed's bed steadily getting full with movie props and costumes. "Just you wait, Jeff!"

. 4 .

"Abed," Troy calls out, huffing out a laugh. He rubs his arms again for good measure. What kind of people run the air-conditioning at this school? It was never this cold in the study room before, and yet, now, they were all shivering. "A-Abed, can I borrow your other jacket?"

"Hey, no fair," Britta pipes up. She has her hands hidden under her legs to warm them up. "Why do you get to get his jacket?"

"Yeah, and let the lesbian have it," Pierce chuckles, rolling his eyes.

Abed reaches for his bag, and pulls out a folded cardigan — the blue one he was particularly fond of for Tuesdays. Abed was wearing his red, "director's" jacket despite not currently directing, so Troy gladly takes the cardigan and wraps it around himself, still folded.

"Thanks, buddy," Troy sighs.

"Troy, you don't wear it like that," Jeff says, glancing up from his texting. The only evidence that he was also cold was the shaky way his fingers went from button to button.

"Ugh, I can't believe this is happening!" Annie huffs.

Abed takes the cardigan from Troy, and unfurls it for him. He mouths, "Like this," and passes it back to him. Abed's fingers are cold when they touch.

Shirley nods, frowning. She clutches her bag to her chest, hiding behind it for warmth. "I hope it isn't like this in our classes."

Troy shuffles to put it on. He has to expose his arms to the cold, but he can feel the difference when he pulls it on. Abed beckons him closer, and pulls on the sleeves, fixing it for him.

Troy mouths to Abed, "Thank you."

"I just hope nothing gets worse," Britta chuckles.

Jeff rolls his eyes. "Three, two, one…"

"Brr! Don't get frost-dean!" the Dean says, strolling into the study room dressed as a lumberjack. He completed the ensemble with a fake beard with fake frost, snowy boots, and an axe. Despite the collective groan, he continues, "Today is our teacher evaluation day. Don't be too _cold_ to them, because someone is going to get _axed._ "

The Dean raises the axe and lunges at the table—

. 5 .

"Abed," Troy says, and he feels his face flush. He pushes the hoodie away from him, his hands falling to his sides. "What's up?"

Abed sits next to him on the study room couch. "You like the smell of my clothes," he says, plainly, simply.

"I—" Troy stammers, but Abed cuts him off.

"I compiled a list of scents that I come into contact with regularly," Abed says, reaching into his bag to retrieve a small piece of paper. Troy takes it gingerly as Abed continues, "I have already deduced it is not because of the falafel smell, or because I sit next to Portia in English."

Troy glances over the list: _Detergent (Honey Day), Deodorant (New Spice -- Green Mint), Dark room photography solution, Garrett's onion sandwiches_ , …

"Thanks, man," he says, lamely. 

Abed nods. "When an animal is introduced to a house, the scents are often very strong and overpowering. This way, we can find out what—"

"Abed, no one's talking about animals here," Troy says, cutting him off now. "And, plus, it's all here."

Troy isn't the one to lie, but he has to save his pride somehow. He points to the first item on the list as he pulls the hoodie back, the one he borrowed from Abed a month ago. He hasn't even asked it back yet.

"I just had this detergent before," he says, though not as smooth as he would've hoped. He points to his own shirt. "My mom uses _DuraClean_ now, and I was just trying to remember."

Abed looks at him with his wide eyes, the cogs in his mind whirring. Troy opens his mouth to take it back, or continue, or even just laugh but Abed says, "Okay."

Troy says, "Cool—" but then Abed leans forward and sniffs him, almost at the top of his chest, near his face. Troy's heartbeat jumps to a million, the sound pounding through his ears as blood rushes to his face.

"Smells more like your cologne," Abed says, pulling back. " _DuraClean_ is very distinct."

"Yeah," Troy squeaks. "Thanks, man."

Abed nods, satisfied.

  
  


. + 1 .

"Troy," Abed says, voice wobbling where it would never have. He peers at him with curiosity, pupils blown wide. He places a hand over his neck, fingers trailing the side. "Do you understand the social meaning of a hickey?"

"It looks good on you," Troy replies, taking the time to run his hand under Abed's shirt.

"We are not the established emotional types of our group," Abed replies, matter-of-fact and sure despite the rubs. "This kind of emotional and physical outburst is more suited to—"

"You can borrow my jacket," Troy says. He leans in to kiss the words out of his mouth, a chaste, proper kiss. He doesn't want him distracted completely. "It will cover it up."

Abed shakes his head. "Sharing clothes is a well-known technique to imply a relationship between people."

Troy leans in. He rests his forehead against Abed's. "I want to go public with you. I don't care about what role the others see me as."

Abed peers up at Troy. They stay like that for a while, studying the lines and slopes of their faces, drinking it all in.

At last, Abed says, "Me, too."

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written any fics in a hot second, so i'm getting back the hang of writing. this is also my first community fic so i'm still trying to get their voices right. also i took some liberty with the "sharing clothes" prompt but i wanted to study them, you know?
> 
> i would greatly appreciate some criticism to improve !


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